THE SAND PAINTINGS: Tapestry
by vanhunks
Summary: J/C; Elizabeth; Second story in the series "The Sand Paintings". Elizabeth Janeway, newly discovered missing daughter of Kathryn and Chakotay, spends the weekend with them at Indiana. These are her first impressions, mainly.


**The Sand Paintings**

**Tapestry**

**vanhunks**

A series of stories following "Finding Kathryn"

**Rating:** PG-13/K+

**Disclaimer:** Paramount owns Janeway and Chakotay.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** The second story in the serties, "The Sand Paintings", a story that was inspired by the intrepid members of the Voyagerangel Message Board VAMB.

**SUMMARY:** Elizabeth Janeway, newly discovered missing daughter of Kathryn and Chakotay, spends the weekend with them at Indiana. These are her first impressions, mainly.

**THE SAND PAINTINGS: ****TAPESTRY**

Did I tell you that Indiana is the most beautiful place in the world? I arrived with my parents - how wonderful to call them that! - late Friday afternoon. Images - hazy impressions of green lawns, oak trees, a swing from the branches of one tree, a small stream in the distance, a swing seat on the porch...

I thought of our meeting. So many emotions in so short a time! It had been completely overwhelming for me and I had run away from it all as fast as I could. I didn't want to run, believe me. I wished from the depths of my heart that I could belong somewhere, that like other cadets I could go home on weekends to family, that I too, could speak animatedly of this and that I experienced. I had been raised practically in isolation and was angry and restless most of my life without understanding why.

I found my real parents, but on that day when I ran from them in such great fear and stopped only when I could run no longer my father found me. He didn't have to say my name even. I just knew it was his weight that bore down next to me on the bench. For now, even in my most scared moments, I had instinctively smelled him too.

I had looked up finally at him. He is a very attractive man, I can tell you that.

"You mother used to come here whenever she was deeply troubled," he told me in the shuttle on the way to their farm.

"And your father always knew just where to find me," she added, her eyes filled with love. It was hard to absorb the fullness and the heady impact of it.

I had not known then that I had family, apart from my parents, that is. Then I learned that I had a grandmother, a grandfather - my grandmother had married an Admiral Ponsonby - , an aunt and cousins. I felt a sense of belonging finally. Just the knowledge that there was a family circle whereas on Caldo IV I lived with only Paul and Marina Brinkmann. They had no other children and so I had grown up alone and kind of alien. It's not their fault, although I was ready to blame everyone and anyone because of how displaced I felt.

I wondered for a long time why they hadn't told me sooner that they had adopted me. But, with the new knowledge I had, the discovery I made, they were blameless to an extent. I was only glad that Paul Brinkmann did give me a few very important clues when he died.

When we arrived at Indiana I was astounded at the vastness of the property, the great lawns that tapered down to an embankment where a stream flowed lustily, with water bounding over rocks. They waited patiently for me, waited for me to absorb the air of Indiana, listen to the birdsong and...a barking dog! Molly IV was her name, is what my father said to me. When I finally turned to join them again they smiled with that deep wonder and sadness lurking in their eyes.

"This place," I said, "I feel like I know it..."

"It had that effect on me too," said my father as he hooked my arm through his and led me up the porch steps and into the spacious lounge of their home. "You just feel completely at home here..."

I didn't want to tell him that I felt it was more than that, something deep and subconscious, for at that moment I wasn't entirely sure how a place could heal my heart like that or how I could feel that a part of me must have grown up there. It was confusing. I was young, as I said, and still too untutored in the vastness and complexities of the subconscious mind. So I just nodded. I wondered as I stood by the hearth, what was going to happen now when I noticed the photographs on the mantelpiece. Pictures of my mother, I presumed instantly, because they could well have been me at that age. They saw my preoccupation with the photographs and smiled those gentle smiles again.

My father took my hand and made me sit down on the couch. Molly IV came bounding in and immediately jumped up against me. I was startled, for I had never had a dog. What was it about these animals that made them appear human? Molly IV looked just like my parents looked: sad and happy with pleading, doleful eyes. I couldn't understand it. They told me Irish setters had that effect on people. I was willing to bet every dog and cat on Earth had that effect on people.

There were many things I didn't understand, and which, when I looked at Kathryn Janeway who nodded to me, I just accepted. It was better that way, I guess, than banging understanding of everything into my head. I was their daughter now, with a whole new life ahead of me and a whole world of their lives to discover. There was no question I guess, that I was going to tell them I didn't want to be a part of their lives. They were incredibly good to me, and never once pressured me to make decisions of any kind. That must have been the first impression I gained that had they raised me as their daughter, they would have wanted me to develop as an individual and independent thinker with none of the overbearing influences with which some young people must have grown up. Neelam for instance, kept saying how she was at the Academy only because her father had been there and so she had to go too even though she had other interests and never wished for life at an Academy.

To integrate with the Janeway family was a decision I made. I had no Paul and Marina Brinkmann anymore. I wasn't looking for new parents when I searched for Kathryn Janeway and Chakotay. I was just looking for the two persons who conceived me. Then, when I met them, things changed. I felt completely their child, and it was this feeling that prompted my decision.

"If - if it is okay with you," I said, feeling unbelievably shy but bolstered by Molly licking my hand, "that I become part of your family circle and - and..." I couldn't speak further, my throat too thick with tears threatening to fall all over me and Molly.

"What is it?" my mother asked, looked fearful herself I thought.

"Not just a visitor..."

"You want to be our little girl?"

I was eighteen, but it was so touching that they called me their little girl. It was touching that they could think I didn't wish to become a part of them, or accept them as my parents. I had lived for eighteen years away from them, with the influences of the Brinkmanns and Caldo IV as part of my life experience. I realised that they had a lot of catching up to do, as much as I had. So I didn't think it was strange. I was being encompassed in a cocoon of warmth and really wanted to feel and experience being their little girl.

I watched the they exchanged glances. What were they going to decide? Earlier I had been dead afraid of this big man who had screamed my name with so much torment in his voice, and now he had calmed he looked like my Daddy, a just and loving man.

"Elizabeth, before we tell you anything or ask you to tell us all of what you discovered," started my father, "we'd like to show you something..."

"What is it?" I asked. Molly IV had jumped on the couch and her head rested on my lap.

"Come..." he said, taking my hand again. They led me down a short passage and my mother opened the door of the room. I gaped like a fish when I stepped inside.

"Who sleeps here?" I asked, surprised at the furnishing of the room. A young girl's paradise. There were soft toys, teddy bears and dolls and targs neatly stacked on a shelf along the length of the bed. A small shelf next to the bed was lined with books. I had never touched a real book in my life and I was drawn to it instantaneously. I moved to the shelf, touched the spines of the books with great awe. Titles jumped at me - "A tale of two cities", "20 000 Leagues under the sea", "Jane Eyre". I had always felt an affinity to Jane Eyre! I removed one book, rested it on my palms and turned to face my mother.

"You liked 'Pride and Prejudice' too?" I asked, rather superfluously.

"It's my favourite book, Elizabeth."

I think I must have paled a little. The heroine...

"Is that why I was named Elizabeth?"

They nodded wordlessly and again I was touched by their pain. As I said, I didn't want to cause them any more pain than they had already suffered. I underestimated them, I think. They needed the catharsis as much as I did.

"It's okay to ask, you know," said my mother. "It's necessary..."

I felt encouraged by her words, spoken with much conviction. I turned to look around me again. There was a painting on the wall just above the bed. Strange textures of sand and lines and bits of shells and other materials. I turned to my father.

"A sand painting."

"His favourite medium," my mother said, smiling proudly now with the gloom of moments ago dispelled by my curiosity. I didn't want to tell them about my own abilities yet...

Did I miss anything? It seemed like it. I never noticed it because it was pastel pink on snowy white. On the satin covered pillow a name was embroidered. "Elizabeth". I had given a little cry of surprise. I looked at my mother. She had tears in her eyes. And my father... He looked close to tears, almost like he had in their apartment when he had screamed so.

"This room... You knew I was coming?"

"No, Elizabeth. It was your room from the moment you were born. As long as we had hope, we kept the room like it is. We changed the books..."

"What books were there when I was four years old?" I asked, suddenly too inquisitive and greedy to know everything at once.

"Mostly fairytales..."

A hand squeezed my heart; a giant fist that clamped its fingers tightly around it. I felt the air leaving my lungs and whooshing from my mouth.

_Fairytales had happy endings... _

I hardly noticed that I closed my eyes or that two pairs of hands pressed me to sit down on the bed.

"Elizabeth...shhh... I'm so sorry... Is anything the matter?"

Marina Brinkmann's words when I was little came back to me. Suddenly, completely in context now that I understood...

_Most people don't have the luxury of living happily ever after. _

She had been reading Cinderella to me then. Her eyes had gone a little sad and I could never understand it. Now...

"No, it's alright. I'm okay... Please, don't be sad... Don't be sad..." I told my mother who looked again near to tears as she sat beside me and held my hand.

"In the wardrobe over there," she said finally, her voice sounding thick, "is a large box. All the gifts are there... One for every year. The date is marked on each of them..."

I didn't think either Kathryn Janeway or Chakotay were obsessive individuals. They did what they thought kept their hopes alive. It was as simple as that. They bought me a birthday gift for every year. The last one...

"When is my birthday?" I asked on a sudden impulse, the gifts forgotten for a moment. Chakotay smiled broadly for the first time since our stormy first meeting.

"On the seventeenth of December... the day after mine..."

"Oh!" I could hardly contain my joy. I never told them when I celebrated my birthday. The Brinkmanns didn't make much of celebrations and considering the fact that I was adopted in the most clandestine way, the date was far out anyway.

"Yes, Elizabeth. You were born on December seventeen..." Kathryn paused, saw my confusion. "What is it, sweetheart?"

My heart did a double flip at the endearment.

"I would like to have my real date of birth recorded..."

They looked at me as if I were completely silly. I was, I guess.

"They are recorded like that in the Federation database. With your names - "

"Elizabeth Janeway?"

"Elizabeth Phoebe Janeway..."

"Even when they told us that you - you were dead," Kathryn said, "we refused to have you declared dead..."

I was suddenly happy. I hugged her, my mother. And when I could let her go finally, I hugged my father for he was waiting patiently to grab me in his big arms.

It was very late that same night. I was in bed and couldn't sleep. We talked over dinner. We talked after dinner, about my dreams for the future, why I chose the Academy. Mom told Dad how I wasn't paying attention in class and how she could see I was hiding behind Neelam Dayaram. That's what alerted her, as well as that she saw my name in the list and she wanted to know what the girl looked like who had the same name as her daughter.

It was good. I learned about my family and extended family - the crew of Voyager, of its pilot and his wife and his parents. But eventually, I got tired and very sleepy.

I lay in bed restless, unable to sleep, thinking of everything that happened to me during the day. I thought of my parents, still up and probably thinking the same things. On an impulse I turned to the cabinet and took out some of the gifts. The first three were toys, soft toys and play PADDs for children. The fourth...

I removed the book, beautifully bound in leather and the title embossed in gold: "The Complete Book of Fairytales".

Did they know that I could read at that early age?

So I clutched the book, my heart pounding like a wild, scared doe and I tiptoed to their bedroom. My breathing was erratic, pained, I guess. I half thought I'd turn back and just drop the whole idea. I was in the home of what had been only a day ago, complete strangers. I was about to invade their sanctuary, intrude upon their private conversation if they were still lying awake.

I so hoped that they were awake.

I knocked softly. Maybe too softly I guess, when there was no response. I didn't want to knock again and so I was about to turn back feeling a little lost and dejected when the door opened.

My mother stood there, in a long white robe and so beautiful with her hair all brushed down and her eyes watery.

"Elizabeth?"

I looked over her shoulder and my father sitting up on the bed.

"I - I'm sorry...to disturb you..."

She saw the book in my hand, touched the gold lettering.

"You didn't disturb us. We're still awake. Is - Is anything the matter?"

I mustered my courage which seemed to have deserted me. She waited, waited 'til I was ready to say something. The door remained open and my father had gotten up and joined her at the door.

"My f-fourth b-birthday... This book..."

"We thought that wherever you were, you might have been taught to read. We would have taught you had you been with us," said Chakotay softly, his hand protectively on his wife's shoulder. I saw a tear roll down her cheek and I wanted to kick myself for making her unhappy again. But she smiled through her tears. Smiled! It was a most beautiful face!

"Will you read to me? Please? I can't sleep..." I asked, holding the book to her ready hands.

Let me tell you: they didn't think it was strange either that an eighteen year old Academy cadet soon to be versed in the wonders of quantum mechanics asked her mother to read to her like she was a little girl again. I loved it and so did my mother!

"What story would you like me to read?" she asked as we walked back to my bedroom, leaving my father still standing in the open doorway of their room.

"Sleeping Beauty..."

My bed was wide enough that she could lie beside me. I felt her softness and her warmth and her motherliness. Our toes touched. It was wonderful, exciting.

My eyes closed as I inhaled her again, hearing the sound of rich golden music in her voice as she started reading.

"Once upon a time there lived a beautiful princess..."

I gave a sigh of pleasure.

It was my father who walked my the room the next morning to wake his sleeping wife and daughter.

END


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